There was nothing in this world worse than a pretentious lowborn, William thought. He was surrounded on every side by dirty-mouthed pirates, all rubbing shoulders and grandiose threats. Worst of all, he was strictly forbidden from killing any of them where they stand. He glared at a figure who seemed a bit too interested in him, and whoever it was obligingly looked away. Serves the fool right enough.

Arak clutched his spear, the wood warping under his heavy grip. He knew what it meant to be in enemy territory, with no more than an instruction to carry out. He swore himself to the task, and the sun will rise in the south before he would break that promise. Just a few more days of holding out now, he promised himself. 

"Ey, youse," croaked a fat pirate, rubbing down a sword. "Gots tha hunge' fer sommat royal blood?"

"Erm . . . certainly, surely, and without doubt," Arak mumbled. "I stand always at the ready to thwart the efforts of Their Maj-"

"Eh, what's it ta youse?" William snapped. "We's gonna cuts youse up if ya don't shuts ye's mouth, see?" He stood up, and stared down the still-shorter rebel, and said rebel suddenly seemed to remember a task he had put off. "What did I say about proper grammar?"

"Don't," sighed Arak.

"Good. Now fetch Visenya. If anyone tries to talk to you, don't respond without two mouthfuls of this," William said, fumbling around his coat. "Damn this . . . where did I leave it . . . ah yes, here we go," he pulled out the wineskin, then gave it a hard shake. "Hmm . . . seems lighter than I remember. Here." He pressed the skin into Arak's hands. "Now, like I said, find Visenya." With a shove, William sent Arak out, on his own, into the midst of the Scorpion camp.

Arak would find Visenya with the Maiden's Men, the company of sellswords drinking, laughing, gambling, and making merry. Captain Seronna, for her part, was drinking several of her men under the table. Meanwhile Visenya was playing a knife game with some of the pirates, stabbing between her splayed fingers quicker and quicker while keeping the blade away from her bare digits. The watching pirates were all rapt with attention as they watched the speed and surety of her stabs, and it was clear that a large amount of coin was on the line. 

"My la- no, no, that wasn't it. Captain!" Arak shouted, waving to Visenya. He approached the table and was about to drop to his knee, stopping himself at the last second and choosing what he thought as more appropriate, a bow. "The . . . erm . . . 'quartermaster' would like to have a word with you, if you can spare the time."

Visenya finished the rapid tattoo of knife thrusts and picked it up before tossing the knife at a pirate with a puffy hat. The hat flew right off of the man and buried itself into the bark of a nearby tree. There was a loud round of cheering and slaps on the back as Visenya grinned and grabbed a hefty bag of coin, turning to Arak, "Very well, sailor. I'll see to him right now." 

Black Visenya Storm, now known to the pirates as Black Calla, walked over to William and smirked at him, hefting the coin bag over her shoulder, "Something you need, Bill? I was just cleaning out some pockets right now." 

"I'll say," William chuckled, turning his gaze to the angry faces lining the table. A few of them reached with uncertain hands to the pile of coins in the middle. "I seem to have been left out of your grand plan. Do you know how insulting that is? I don't think I've ever been left out of one of your schemes in my entire life." He rolled up his sleeve for dramatic effect, revealing the burn marks on his forearm. It was old and faded, but still rang of the time Visenya had tried to steal a wedding cake from the kitchen, and the angry cook had thrown a torch at the two of them. William didn't even remember what made them try something so drastic. "I don't sit here talking like the mentally slow for the fun of it, you know. Well, not just for the fun of it."

Visenya saw the burn marks and she smiled, remembering, the she laughed, "Well, you do have a sibling to look after now. I wasn't sure if you wanted to participate." She sat down next to Will in the private pavillion that their men had erected, away from the other pirates without being too suspicious, "Tell you what, the next grift, I'll let you take the lead. How about that?" 

She grinned, "I'm surprised you came with me, this could prove to be quite a dangerous job. We'll have to pretend to be dirty, drunk, conniving pirates for quite some time." She paused then said, "Well, it might not be so difficult for you." 

Visenya laughed and pulled out a wineskin, taking a sip before passing it on to him, "Why did you want to take the risk, Will? I'm genuinely curious. Grateful, but curious."

What was he supposed to say? William took the skin and took a generous helping of it for himself. He once again found himself without words. Damn it all, this always happens at the worst times. "Well . . . hmm . . ." he said, before ducking behind the comfortable cover of the wineskin. Eventually, though, it was to run out. "I couldn't just let you go galavanting off to the Stepstones, leaving me with the gutless ladies in Westeros." He finished. The wine tore through his throat in the way only a strong wine could. Gods, she knew exactly what he liked.

Visenya smiled at him and said, "That might be the nicest thing you ever said to me Will." She let the matter lay and took the wineskin, frowning at it's emptiness, "I suppose it makes up for draining my reserve of Arbor red." 

The bastard princess sat back and looked up at the stars, a sea of lights above them, "Remember when we used to camp in the Kingswood? You, me, the Princes, our friends. I miss those days Will. Things were simple then." 

Her smile turned sad, "I wish it could have stayed that simple." 

"Friends? That's new," William laughed, handing the rather empty wineskin back. "Way I saw it, it was you, me, and a load of white-headed bullies who for whatever reason insisted I skin the animals they hunted. They were all so excited when I did. 'Ooh, your father could do the same trick with humans' every time," he grimaced. "You lived the simple life. Mine's been complicated the moment I was born."

Visenya looked at him, "Aemon never did that Will. And you know Viserys is an ass, but he means nothing by it." She placed the wineskin away and poured out two bowls from the stew boiling over a nearby fire, handing one to Will along with some bread, "It wasn't always simple for me either Will. I'm a bastard with no parents. The King and Queen raised me. I may be part of the family, but I don't have the name." 

"You at least, you can make the Bolton name honorable again. Make it something to be proud of. If we do our jobs right, Jon will give you back the Dreadfort. And you won't have to deal with my schemes any more." She smiled and took a bite of bread. 

"What a shame that would be," William said, taking the bowl and having himself a large slurpy drink from its contents. It was tasteless and lumpy, but he didn't expect or wish for anything else. "I rather enjoyed stealing that cake. Especially after, when we returned it, looking all sorry, with our own little birthday surprise in it." Perhaps the best part of the night was when Lord . . . some big name or other joyfully sliced it open, and to his horror a live rabbit bounded out of it, covered in sweetbread and angry from being confined for so long in a big loaf of it. 

Visenya giggled, sounding like a girl again as she remembered, "I had no idea how you found that one. Remember Sansa's face? She was absolutely furious. Knew it was you right away. And Jon knew it was me too. We had to scrub the kitchens for a month. But it was completely worth it." 

"When you're Lord of the Dreadfort again, make sure to come down and visit, will you?" 

" . . . Sure. I will," William said, far hushed, while thinking angry thoughts, directed mostly at himself. Well, there goes that, he supposed, finishing the last of the porridge. "Any excuse to get out of the cold in the North, right?"